Everything had changed.
After that day, I was no longer quite myself. I saw without seeing. I heard without understanding. I was like an empty shell. It wasn’t Ingride living in Malaba anymore, but something else. A presence, perhaps.
That evening, in Mama Jeanne’s house, my mother said nothing.
She looked at me, looked at us, confused… wary.
Mama Jeanne watched her for a long time, her hands resting on her knees.
— Mama, you must trust me. If you love her, help me save your daughter.
Silence settled.
My mother’s breathing was heavy. Her eyes moved from me to Mama Jeanne, then to the window.
She sighed deeply before saying:
— If it’s to save her… fine.
A little after midnight, we took the road toward Ntoum.
A remote place, deep in the bush.
The air was cooler there, almost too calm. The kind of calm that unsettles you.
We reached an old wooden fence, worn by time. A creaking gate, and behind it, a small wooden house. All around, upside-down bottles hung on strings, and dry leaves were tied to the walls.
A young woman came out.
She wore a red pagne and a black top, her hair tied atop her head.
When she saw Mama Jeanne, she burst with joy:
— Mama Jeanne!! Oh Lord! Mama Jeanne is at my home!
They embraced like mother and daughter, then her gaze drifted toward me.
I stared into nothingness, murmuring unintelligible words.
— Is it her? she asked, pointing at my body sitting on a mat by the door.
— Yes, my daughter. It is her… Mama Jeanne answered gravely.
My mother tried to speak, but Colette raised a hand:
— Don’t explain anything. Not now. I saw it the moment you stepped into my yard. I saw everything.
She signaled to two boys standing behind the house. They came immediately.
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